


Control

by coffeeisoxygen



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 8x17 coda, M/M, Men of Letters Headquarters, Mind Control, Written just before the episode, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 19:23:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeeisoxygen/pseuds/coffeeisoxygen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hello, Dean.” </p>
<p>Two simple words, a familiar greeting, and he feels as though he’s been kicked in the gut, mouth hanging open with the shock and a bunch of overwhelming urges hitting him at once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> As always, originally posted over on my tumblr where my username is the same as here.
> 
> If you want me to warn for something I might've forgotten, just let me know. :)
> 
> **Disclaimer:** I don't own Supernatural nor its characters and I make no profit from this.

Dean’s sitting on his bed - _his_ bed, he can’t help but add with a strong sense of awe every time the thought strikes him - cleaning guns and humming along to the sound of Nat King Cole playing on the turntable when there’s a slow, almost hesitant knock on the doorframe behind him, and Sam’s voice softly reaching his ears. “Dean.”

Turning around, smile at the ready, Dean has to choke back a violent sob at the unexpected sight greeting him. Next to Sam’s huge frame, looking tired and slightly hunched over as though Atlas has handed him his burden, is Castiel. Despite the exhaustion radiating off of him, he still wears a smile, that barely-there curve of one corner of his mouth, as his eyes meet Dean’s across the room. “Hello, Dean.” 

Two simple words, a familiar greeting, and he feels as though he’s been kicked in the gut, mouth hanging open with the shock and a bunch of overwhelming urges hitting him at once. 

Dean can’t decide whether he wants to run up and hug Cas, or punch him out (well, more like give it his very best _efforts_ , and damn the pain) or yell at him, or trap him in holy fire so he can’t ever leave again. He’s seriously considering the last one. 

What he ends up doing, however, is nothing but keep staring with his mouth open and _goddammit_ , _he must look like a total idiot_ , but he just can’t seem to do anything about it. He can’t move, finds himself locked in that uncomfortable half-turned-around position. He can’t answer either, for that matter, as his throat has dried up so much so that the Sahara would find it impressive. All he finds himself capable of doing is stare, drowning in blue as the world around him starts to blur.

“Found him outside.” Sam’s still soft, tentative voice reaches him and gives reality back its sharp edges, pulls him out of the deep and he blinks. Once, twice.

Castiel is still standing there, hands buried in the pockets of that damn trenchcoat, looking for all the world as if he’s about two seconds away from sacking to the floor. Still, Dean notices he’s carefully _not_ leaning against Sam, or even the doorframe, for support. _Stubborn bastard_. Dean grits his teeth as Sam speaks again.

“He was just waiting on the steps”, Sam continues, “and he won’t tell me how long he’s been out there. I - ” The younger Winchester goes silent as he shoots glances between the angel and his brother, still staring at each other with an intensity impressive even for the two of them. Sam shifts a little and brings a hand up to rub at the back of his neck as he clears his throat. “I, uh… I’ll let you two catch up.” He says, throwing Dean a smile. “I’ll be in the library geeking out if you need me.” And Dean tears his eyes away from Castiel at that, giving his brother a fond smile and a proud nod in return.

He watches as Sam give Cas a light pat on the shoulder before scurrying off. Castiel hasn’t moved. Dean lets go of the gun he’s been clutching, puts it carefully beside him on the bed as he finds himself able to move again. Standing up, Dean takes slow, measured steps toward his friend as he swallows past the growing lump in his throat.

“So I guess you’ve been getting my calls, then.” There’s no way Castiel would have known where to find them if he hadn’t. Cas nods, but he doesn’t answer, or move, so Dean takes another few steps forward. “So I don’t have to tell you how terrified I’ve been”, he says, voice lower with each step.

Cas takes a deep breath, and there’s a tinge of pained desperation in his eyes now.

“I don’t have to tell you, right?” Dean continues. “Because you know? _You know_.”

“Dean - ” Cas’s voice is weak, _trembling_ , and so are his legs.

Dean’s close enough now that he can reach out and grab him by the shoulders to keep him from falling, and so he does. “ _Jesus_ , Cas”, he mumbles as Cas closes his eyes and takes another deep breath. “You should sit down.”

He’s about to guide Castiel to the bed, when suddenly there’s a firm hand around one of his arms, grip almost painful, and Castiel shakes his head. “No. Dean, I - ” Dean looks up from his arm at the alarm in his voice and frowns as Cas swallows hard; the struggling look on the angel’s face doing a stellar job of freaking Dean the hell out.

“Cas, _what_ is going on with you?” He asks, words slowly forced out of his mouth, because he’s pretty damn sure he’s not gonna want to hear the answer.

“I don’t know.” Castiel shakes his head again, there’s slight panic alighting his eyes.

“You went back to Heaven”, Dean points out, voice low.

“I know.” Cas breaks his eyes away from him and traces over the floor as he exhales a shaky breath. 

When he doesn’t elaborate, just keeps staring at the floor as if he’s comitting it carefully to memory, Dean huffs and shakes him a little by the grip on his shoulders. 

“ _What the hell_ where you _doing_ up there for so long, man? I thought - -” Dean can’t bring himself to finish the sentence, but it doesn’t matter anyway - Cas has heard his calls, he knows.

“ _I don’t know_.” There’s more power in Castiel’s voice now, powered by the panic seeping into it, and his other hand comes up to grab Dean’s other arm just as tightly as the other one. “Dean, _I can’t remember_.”

Images of his friend the night he disappeared hits Dean, suddenly and violently, a single tear of blood creeping down the angel’s eye, and he can still hear the way he talked, how hollow and robotic he’d sounded, how there was nothing behind his eyes. Dean swallows and, without thinking, moves forward until his forhead rests against Castiel’s. 

Cas jerks a little in surprise, but doesn’t move away. After a few shaky breaths, he leans into the touch, relaxing his grip on Dean’s arms.

“Hey”, Dean says, waiting for Cas to meet his eyes before continuing. “We’ll figure it out, okay? We’ll fix it.”

Cas nods weakly, eyes searching Dean’s face, and they’re so close, their breaths mingling in the small space between them. Cas’s eyes fall on Dean’s lips and, leaning in a bit, they fall shut. Dean can’t help a small gasp as his body moves on its own to meet Cas halfway and _holy shit this is really happening_ , and he can’t even find it in himself to care, to freak out over _not_ freaking out, because Cas is so warm against him, pink lips parted and so damn inviting and they’re almost on his now, Dean’s about to close his own eyes and _jump_ …

“Dean.” There’s full-on panic in Cas’s voice now, and Dean stops, lips only a hair’s breadth away, blood freezing in his veins as he sees the emptiness slowly creeping over the panic in his friend’s eyes. “ _Run_.”


End file.
